


My Favorite Mistake

by sksdwrld



Series: Asterisk [30]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things just aren't meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite Mistake

Elliot/Jay.

( Collapse )

"I can't, Jay. I can't be everything to everyone!" Elliot was on the verge of a breakdown, he could feel it in his chest- the tight pressure that threatened to collapse his ribs and spear his lungs with the broken ends. Behind his eyes was a dull throb that hadn't gone away, even when he'd chased his meds with aspirin and now, a couple of beers. He folded himself down, chest pressing against his thighs, forcing all the air out just so he could suck in a deeper breath when he sat up again.

"There's a saying..." Jay scraped the mouth of his bottle against the coffee table where the varnish was peeling and appeared to think about it. "Something like, if your heart is an artichoke..." he trailed off as though Elliot should be able to fill in the rest but Elliot only looked at him blankly. "You know. If you give a leaf to everyone...it's not enough for anyone. Or some shit like that...you know what, I'm not really sure where I was going with that. Forget it. What I'm trying to say is, no one wants that, Elliot. No one expects that."

"They do!" Elliot insisted. "I'm supposed to be the grandson they lost; exactly the same, only more mature. I'm supposed to have a love for building things with my hands because Mike is a carpenter and there's a picture of me playing with Legos. I'm supposed to love bears and baseball and...and ice cream cones, because I used to, fifteen years ago. I'm supposed to wake up every day and thank Jesus for this gift of life that I was given, because Shari does. I'm supposed to be sweet and loving and easy going. I'm supposed to be grateful and considerate and friendly. I'm supposed to love these...these strangers because they love the memory of a child who was taken from them. Because a piece of paper says my blood composition is the same as that boy that they buried."

"They'll get over it," Jay said and took a few swallows of beer. "So will you. Give it time. And your family, man. They don't count as everyone."

"They're not." Elliot glared at the floor. "To my therapist, I'm supposed to be a victim, complacent in the quest to fix me. I'm supposed to follow the textbook rubric for a person in pain and I'm supposed to compliantly respond to my treatment the way that they tell me is acceptable."

"Oh, fuck th--"

"You." Elliot dared to glance up. "For you, I'm supposed to be cavalier. Tough. Let it roll off my shoulders. Pretend it doesn't hurt. Bottle it up, swallow it down. Bury it."

"I never said that, don't put words in my mouth. I'm trying to help you, Elliot, the only way I know how." Jay finished his beer, then got up to get another one.

"I'm a God damn talking cat to Chris," Elliot accused as soon as Jay returned.

Jay tipped the bottle away from his mouth and nearly choked. "What?"

"You heard me. I come over and she wants to pet and coo over me without really listening to what I have to say. She's happy to feed me and let me sleep on her couch and even cry a little as long as she doesn't really have to put too much effort in. She can leave me alone if she has to and expect that I'll survive. But I'm alright company when you're not around." Elliot wiped his face. He was starting to feel numb and fuzzy at the edges, like he could drift if things were quiet. He set his half-finished beer aside.

"All you told me is how you relate to different people. That doesn't mean any of us expect you to be someone you're not," Jay gestured with the bottle.

"You do though," Elliot pressed. "Because if I'm not any one of those things to any of you, when I'm not..." Shaking his head, he looked away.

"What happens?"

"You get mad at me. You all get mad at me."

"So? People get mad. It's their job to figure out how to deal with it, not yours."

Elliot leaned forward again, tugging at his hair. Jay didn't get it, none of them did. Their anger triggered a complex reaction in him, including fear and self-doubt and contributed to his people-pleasing complex which made him frustrated and act out. Which in turn, made them angry. It was a vicious cycle, the only means to ends which was doing anything to avoid making them angry in the first place.

He made a high pitched sound in the back of his throat. Jay shifted closer and put his hand on Elliot's back. "Look, people try to relate to each other the best they can and if they find something that works, they keep it up. If shit isn't working for you anymore, change it. But we're all following your lead here."

"It's not that easy," Elliot grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"You don't think so? I think the only person making it hard is you." When Elliot looked over, Jay met his unrelenting stare. "Yeah, I said it. You think I'm being a hardass? It's 'cause I know you. You're lazy and you don't like change."

Elliot blew a sharp breath out and rolled his eyes.

"I know because I don't like change either," Jay grinned and raised the bottle to his lips. The corners of Elliot's mouth quirked up a bit. He couldn't help it. When Jay smiled, it lit up his face and transformed his stoic, no-nonsense look into something mischievous and infectious. "Look, someone has a problem with you, fuck 'em. Say it with me..."

Elliot scrubbed his face with one hand, his beer warming in the other. The sedative effect from mixing alcohol with his medication was really kicking in. When Jay jiggled his shoulder, he gave in, too tired to protest and uninhibited enough that the words tumbled out of his mouth. "Fuck 'em."

"Yeah, you got it," Jay laughed and clapped Elliot in the back before sliding his arm around his shoulders, giving him another jostle and a side-hug.

Elliot smiled at the contact and let his head drop onto Jay's shoulder. He was going to crash, and soon. The silence that stretched between them was companionable, Jay's arm heavy, his body warm. Beneath the hoppy air of beer and the crisp scent of his aftershave was the smell of diesel fuel. The combination was was strange and unfamiliar but nevertheless stirred memories within him, reminding him of a time when he'd been well cared for and loved.

Not that he wasn't now. Jay had always cared about him, even in the beginning when they were strangers and Elliot was so scared of everything. Especially then. Elliot felt safe with Jay, could trust him with his secrets, could trust him with his heart. Jay knew how to push him, but within the confines of support, because Jay cared about him, cared for him. Jay was a good friend. But he was more than that. He was a mentor...

Elliot sighed softly, breathing in Jay's presence. And then it dawned on him. Why hadn't he realized it before? He loved his strength and his sensitivity and his ego. Elliot loved Jay and he wasn't sure that Jay even knew how much.

"I love you," he murmured.

Jay laughed and ruffled his hair the way Daniel used to. "Ha, yeah. You too." And he reached across Elliot, tugging the bottle of beer away from him. "I think you've had enou--"

"Jay," Elliot said, curling an arm around the older man's neck. Life had dealt them both a bunch of shit, but Elliot could fix that. "I want to do something for you." His lips found the warm salt of Jay's neck and worked against it. There was a sharp intake of breath and then Elliot suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor, a dull ache spreading across the back of his skull.

"Shit," Jay said before Elliot had so much as whimpered and then he was there, tugging Elliot back up onto the couch, smoothing his shirt down. "I think we both just did some shit we didn't mean to...I...I didn't realize you had so much to drink. God damn, El. I forget you're a light weight. You should lay down."

"Yeah," Elliot croaked, blinking back tears as he felt the back of his head. There was a small egg, but it didn't hurt as much as his wounded ego. What the hell had he been thinking? "Yeah. I'm sorry. I should...I should lay down." He curled into the corner, pulling his arms around his head and tried not to sniffle too audibly.

"Hey," Jay's tone was light but strained, as if he were forcing it. He dragged the afghan from the back of the couch and arranged it over Elliot, then squeezed his shoulder. "When I said fuck 'em, I didn't mean literally. I didn't mean me..."

"Yeah. I dunno what came over me. Let's just forget about it, please."

"Yeah, kid. Forget about it." Jay got up and Elliot was suddenly afraid he was going to be left alone.

"Where are you going?"

"Kitchen," Jay grunted. "Get another beer."

"Okay." Elliot didn't mean to whisper, it was only that his throat was too tight. In the distance, the refrigerator door opened and closed. Jay softly swore. Elliot winced and curled tighter. Fuck 'em, he desperately told himself. If he doesn't like it, fuck 'em.


End file.
